


Glorious

by Anteros



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-29
Updated: 2009-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-25 14:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anteros/pseuds/Anteros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Set around the time of <i>The Duel / The Even Chance</i>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Glorious

**Author's Note:**

> Set around the time of _The Duel / The Even Chance_.

_**Glorious**_  
 **Title:** Glorious  
 **Author:** Anteros  
 **Characters:** Archie Kennedy / Horatio Hornblower  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Notes:** First shot at slash. Be gentle with me :} Partially inspired by the wonderful [](http://romanticalgirl.livejournal.com/profile)[**romanticalgirl**](http://romanticalgirl.livejournal.com/) 's [Release](http://romanticalgirl.livejournal.com/264234.html), a variation on a theme. Extra brownie points for anyone who spots the CSF canon ref ;)

  


* * *

  
**I**

It was their first shore leave since being transferred to the _Indefatigable_ a fortnight previously. Refitting had been completed but provisions were being loaded and the full ship's company was still being assembled. The frigate's midshipmen were in one of the numerous dockside inns toasting their good fortune at being given two nights shore leave so soon after their transfer. Most of the mids were young, one or two of them were younger than Archie, and he was still in the process of putting names to faces. Hether and Cleveland, his shipmates from _Justinian_ were conspicuously older than the rest of the company and were taking every advantage of their seniority and superiority. "Good fortune my arse", Cleveland snorted, "captain just wants you little rats out of the way while the supplies come aboard." "You mids'll just get under the purser's feet and I'll wager Pellew wouldn't stand for that." Hether added, neglecting the fact that he was still a midshipman himself.

Conversation was naturally dominated by the war, the action they would surely see under the illustrious Captain Pellew, the prizes they would gain and how they would spend the prize money that was undoubtedly coming their way. Even Hether's assurance that if anything was coming their way it would likely be French cannon shot did little to dampen the young men's ardour for war.

As the evening drew on the ale flowed and conversation inevitably turned to ardour of a different sort. One of the mids made the mistake of producing a fine painted locket from his jacket to prove that his sweetheart was indeed the fairest flower of Kent. Cleveland had seized the locket and appraised in seriously before concurring that she was indeed fair and had a fine bloom to her cheek and her belly when last he had seen her plying her trade at Chatham dockyard. The affronted and inebriated young man had been all for calling Cleveland out to demand satisfaction and restore his sweetheart's honour when the situation was defused by the arrival of a barmaid carrying two bottles of brandy. As brandy replaced ale the beauty and honour of sweethearts was soon forgotten as the young men vied to outdo each other with graphic tales of their exploits with whores and bawds. Archie believed little of what he heard and suspected that few if any of these boys had ever dipped their yards.

Normally Archie would have contributed to proceedings with enthusiasm. He was not shy and could spin colourful yarns of his misspent youth in Drury Lane, not all of which were fictions. And if Henry the stagehand became Henrietta the wardrobe girl who was to know? Time was when boasting of his amorous exploits had also been a desperate attempt to deflect attention from the lurid rumours that circulated regarding "Jack's boy". Most of which were true, but who was to know?

Tonight however Archie had refrained from regaling his shipmates for the simple reason that his spirits had been dampened by the presence of Horatio Hornblower. Not that he resented Horatio's presence, far from it, Horatio's presence had become one of his chief joys since their reprieve from _Justinian_. However Horatio was clearly ill at ease with the crude banter of his shipmates. Archie doubted he had ever seen his friend look so awkward, and that was saying something. Archie suspected he himself wore a similar expression during navigation lessons; obviously embarrassed by his dismal lack of knowledge but utterly disinterested in overcoming his dearth of experience, while at the same time trying to cover his shortcomings with a look of nonchalant disdain. However Archie knew this was no prudish affectation on Horatio's part, he was obviously uncomfortable with the turn of events. Horatio had supped his ale moderately and had done well to cover the fact that he had barely touched the brandy. As his shipmates grew drunker and any pretense at gentlemanly deportment was replaced by inebriated slouching and sprawling Horatio's carriage only seemed to grow stiffer and more erect. He was beginning to look like he would rather endure another spell in the rigging than a moment longer with this drunken rabble. However when Cleveland insisted that he entertain them with his own, no doubt numerous, conquests he had wit enough to respond graciously and insincerely that he could only hope to aspire to his senior shipmate's vigour and virility.

He may have been out of his depth but Horatio could easily hold his own against the likes of Cleveland and Hether. Still, that did not prevent Archie feeling bad on his behalf. He had grown fiercely protective of his friend and would have gladly challenged anyone who had the temerity to question his honour or manliness, even in jest. Of course he himself ribbed Horatio mercilessly but teasing Horatio was his prerogative and he defended that exclusive right jealously. Not that Horatio needed any assistance in defending his honour of course, and certainly not from a coward like Archie. What did Archie know about defending anyone's honour when his own had long since been trodden in the dirt with barely a whimper?

Conversation had finally degenerated from tales of bawds and brothels to slurred renditions of the type of chanteys that on board would have had them hauled before the captain for conduct unbecoming. The caterwauling was clearly the last straw for Horatio. He rose, excused himself with a stiff sharp nod and took his leave. Nobody noticed he had gone except Archie.

Archie started to relax somewhat after Horatio's departure. His companions were three sheets to the wind and while he was a relative model of sobriety in comparison he roused himself sufficiently to entertain the company with a ballad that would have made a seasoned sheet anchor man blush. Knowing how to make exit Archie rose to cheers and whistles, he picked up his hat with a flourish and bowed low as his dancing master had once taught him. With that he took his leave.

* * *

  
 **II**

The room Archie was sharing with Horatio was at the top of the inn under the eaves. He stumbled slightly in the darkness as he entered, fumbling to light the candle by the wash stand. He could just make out the motionless form of his shipmate on the bed. It was still and quiet, the silence broken only my Horatio's deep regular breathing. He was asleep. Archie exhaled a long slow breath.

It as not the first time they had roomed together on shore leave but Archie did not relish sharing a bed with Horatio Hornblower. Over the years he had shared rooms and beds with numerous shipmates, it was the only way midshipmen could cover the cost of a night ashore on their paltry pay. Everyone did it and no one gave it a second thought. Why it should be any different with Horatio, Archie could not say.

That was a damned lie. Archie knew exactly why it was different with Horatio. Archie didn't trust himself. Didn't trust himself not to look to long or too fondly, not to curl too close, not to touch, to trail his fingers over long straight limbs his tongue over full lips. Not to soil as he had been soiled.

Archie sighed and undressed, stripping down to his shirt and breeches. Horatio had remonstrated with Archie once for sleeping in his breeches, assuring him it was bad for the circulation. Archie had accepted this rebuke, unable to explain why he was so afraid and ashamed of his nakedness. "I'm just cold" he had shrugged. Another lie.

Lifting the thin blanket Archie sidled underneath. The bed was narrow but if he lay close to the edge he could keep sufficient distance between himself and the warm sleeping body breathing next to him. He could feel the heat radiating from Horatio's back and he ached to curl in behind him, to slide his hand over his flat belly and draw him closer. Instead he turned on his side and contented himself with measuring Horatio's deep regular breaths with his own until he drifted out to sleep.

* * *

  
 **III**

Archie was completely disoriented when he woke. He opened his eyes and saw nothing. Black, nothing but thick black darkness. His heart leapt into his throat. He groped a hand out in front of him expecting to feel the damp planks of some hidden corner of the hold but instead he grasped the edge of the bed and a handful of the rough blanket. The candle had long since guttered out and the room was in darkness.

As Archie's senses reordered themselves he became aware of a weight lying over his side and an incredible warmth enveloping his back. Horatio had rolled over and was pressed hard against him with his hand draped over his hip. Archie could feel every inch of his long body lying heavy against him. And he could also feel Horatio's prick pressed stiff and hard against his thigh. Archie's first instinct was to leap out of bed but somehow his body didn't seem to want to obey. Instead he lay there listening to Horatio's regular breathing. He was still asleep, but the pressure against Archie's thigh hadn't diminished.

Horatio shifted and muttered something inaudible. Fingers curled, pressed into Archie's hip and relaxed again. Archie smiled to himself in the darkness. Perhaps the good Mr Hornbower had appreciated the evening's discussions more than he had credited. It amused him to think of his proper friend dreaming lustily of whores and bawds. That was ridiculous, Horatio would never stoop so low, even in his fancies. More likely he was dreaming of an admiral's daughter with fine white hands, porcelain cheeks and unimpeachable virtue. Any hint of amusement turned to alarm as Horatio murmured again and started wriggling against his bedfellow. His prick slid between Archie's thighs and he moaned slightly. Even through his breeches Archie could feel the intense heat of Horatio's erection and his own prick kicked between his legs in response. The movement of Horatio's hips was starting to pick up a rhythm and his chin dug into Archie's shoulder. His breath was hot against his ear but his breathing remained regular and his hand lay limp and still against his hip. "Horatio?" Archie's voice was a hoarse whisper. "Horatio!" No response above the waist. Horatio was definitely asleep. But still his hips kept moving and his prick slid against the rough duck of Archie's breeches. Archie pressed his thighs together, as much in response to his own erection as to Horatio's movement. Horatio responded by pressing harder against him. He was thrusting between Archie's thighs now, his prick pressing hard up against his arse. He was muttering half words that Archie couldn't catch and his breath was quickening but Archie was certain Horatio was still asleep.

Archie's heart was hammering against his chest but he lay as still as possible given the circumstances and considered his options. He could slip out of bed, he could turn over and push Horatio away, he could waken him and tell him to stop this nonsense. Instead Archie slid his hand under his shirt and down into his breeches. His own prick was hard, wet and aching. Horatio was still asleep, Archie reasoned, he would never know. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger over he head of this cock and then curled his fingers round the shaft, barely stifling a groan. He measured the stroke of this hand against Horatio's thrusts, just as he had measured breath for breath earlier that night. His breeches were damp where Horatio's wet prick was rubbing against him. Horatio's breath was ragged now and his fingers gripped fitfully at Archie's hip. He was still murmuring broken words. The heat between Archie's legs and under his palm was intense. He longed to turn his head to see his friends face, he could only imagine the flushed cheeks, open lips and long dark lashes. Horatio's rhythm was breaking up now, he was starting to shudder. Archie was trying desperately to hold back his own climax when the words suddenly and clearly escaped Horatio's lips "Archie, please...Archie". Archie froze rigid with shock as Horatio thrust hard against him and came with a low moan. It was enough to tip Archie over the edge and he followed Horatio's climax a moment later, shards of heat shooting up his spine.

* * *

  
 **IV**

Archie lay fighting to still his breath and calm the turmoil swimming in his head. Horatio hadn't moved. His prick grew soft between Archie's thighs, hand still lying on his hip bone, sharp chin jutting into his shoulder. He lay still. Asleep. Once Archie had stopped trembling he slid cautiously out of the bed. Horatio sighed and turned over. Archie's breeches were wet, conspicuously stained front and back, so he stripped them off and bundled them into a pile beneath the bed. Then he climbed back into the bed, curling up against Horatio's warm back. He felt glorious.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep Archie seemed to hear Jack Simpson's fearful voice through the dark "So what's your dirty little secret?" God help him, Simpson may have been the very devil himself but like Auld Nick he had an uncanny ability to ferret out a man's darkest fears. He really did know what gnawed at a man's soul at night. "A fancier of other boys perhaps?" Through the haze of sleep Archie saw Horatio's discomfiture earlier that evening in a new light. Archie saw a lot of things in a new light.

* * *

  
 **V**

When Archie surfaced the next morning Horatio was already awake, lying on his back staring at the roof with an intensity that suggested he was scanning the horizon for enemy ships. Archie remained perfectly still and watched him, tracing the contours of his sharp profile, full lips, long straight nose and the curl of dark lashes. He could not fathom what had passed the night before but he didn't care. Because this morning it felt like the most natural and wonderful thing in the world to be lying warm and half naked beside Horatio Hornblower. Even if his friend did look slightly concussed.

"Morning Horatio." Horatio actually jumped. As he turned to face him, Archie saw more emotions than he could put a name to glimmering in the brown depths of Horatio's eyes, flickering to the surface, only to submerge again.

"Good morning Archie". Try as he might Archie could not prevent a small smile from chasing across his lips. "Sleep well did you, Horatio?" "Yes Archie, thank you." Horatio scrambled from the bed in a tangle of arms of legs, dragging the blanket to the floor as he went.

Archie was lying on his back. His short shirt barely reached his hips, his prick had risen with the morning and was lying semi-erect against the tawny hair that curled down from his belly.

"Ah.... Mr Kennedy. I see you have adopted more appropriate sleeping attire". Horatio managed a nervous lopsided smile. It would have looked decidedly like a smirk had it not been for the deep scarlet blush that spread over his cheeks.

Archie stretched lazily and just a little too obviously. He rolled over on to his side and propped himself up on one elbow, fixing his friend with a broad glorious smile.

"Indeed Mr Hornblower. So it would seem."


End file.
